


when

by orphan_account



Series: sick of losing soulmates [2]
Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: (only mentioned its not sexual i promise), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Flexibility, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, a not insignificant amount of winking, pat has a crisis, the soulmate thing is that their entire world is the color of their soulmate's eyes until they meet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 01:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Pat Gill has become content with the fact he doesn't have a soulmate. He's come to terms with it, after a shitshow of a marriage he thought was going to be okay and a lifetime of crises over his ever-color-changing world. Then, he entirely misses the moment it stops changing.





	1. you believe in fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [electrictrashcan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrictrashcan/gifts).

> standard rpf things: if u or anybody u know is in this fic please for the love of all things decent leave this
> 
> this is a work of fiction and is in no way intended to represent the opinions or personalities of any real person(s)
> 
> title and most of the chapters named after dodie songs bc i have to match virg, these all go together

Pat Gill had gotten used to the idea of not having a soulmate. He’d convinced himself early on that he was one of the strange few who just didn’t have somebody, and gone through his own emotional turmoil of dealing with that long before he was hired at Polygon. He’d come to terms with it. His world just… changed. It was different colors at different times, always some sort of monochromatic green or brown (or yellow, sometimes,) and he just assumed that meant the universe didn’t choose. That’s why he’d married his ex-wife, after all. He was convinced it just didn’t matter; that marriage did just shitty enough to show him that it did, in fact, matter. But since he had started at Polygon, he hadn’t thought about it much, brushing it under the rug and to the back of his mind. Who needs to worry about romance when you’re working your dream job and doing well for yourself?

That wasn’t to say he never thought about it. Sometimes he wondered what it was like to know your future at a glance. He wondered how it felt to look at someone’s eyes and see the color you’d always seen and know right then, when the rest of the world lit up in  _ new colors _ , that you had the rest of your life set. He wished he felt that, sometimes. When he would lie awake at night, Charlie sleeping at his feet, staring at his brown (or green, or yellow) ceiling and thinking about what it might be like.

Patrick hadn’t considered it during the day, especially at work, until he was going through cover letters for new video producers. Simone had decided definitively that she would  _ not be the one looking at that many videos, Pat _ , and Tara put him on the job. It left him half-assedly skimming video cover letters and letting his mind wander to other topics, like that new fighting game (What the fuck was that called? He couldn’t remember for the life of him) or the way his dark-tone pants were covered in cat fur (Thanks Charlie) or the bright red and blue of the Mario amiibo Griffin had given him, or-

Color. The world was colorful. When the fuck did the world become colorful? He had only zoned out for a few videos, right? Pat’s eyes searched the room frantically, and he felt the need to yell. He didn’t know if he needed to yell at someone, or at himself, or about himself, or about how his  **world was fucking colorful.**

Allegra caught his eye across the room and squinted at him.  _ What the fuck are you doing, Pat? _ It scanned immediately and Patrick nodded his head toward the break room.  _ We need to talk. _ The way her eyes lit up reassured him that she got the message. 

“Are you high? You’re looking around like you’ve never seen the place before,” she’d said when they got into the break room, a smile playing on her lips and a laugh threatening to break through her words.

“I’ve never seen the place in  _ color _ before.” Pat said it under his breath, as if he were back in Sunday school, risking swear words with his friends. His heart stopped for a second, and his stomach dropped.  _ You absolute dumbass. You just saw your soulmate in applications for the  _ place you work _ and you don’t even know who it was.  _ His mind scolded him.

“Holy shit,” Legs paused. A silence fell over the break room, and Pat would’ve sworn in that moment that it was suffocating him, that he’d die before he even met his fucking soulmate. Then Allegra laughed wholeheartedly and hit his arm. “Holy shit! Pat!” His face turned red, and he felt the heat of it. “Who? Who’s the lucky man? Or woman. I don’t wanna label you.” She corrected, making a point of it in a teasing way.

“I… I don’t know.” She laughed again.

“How do you not know?”

“It was one of the applicants in the video letters.”

“Oh my  _ fucking _ god.”

Allegra was a thorn in his side for the rest of the day, switching manically between making sure Pat didn’t let his crisis show and teasing him about the whole situation. She was simultaneously protecting him from Tara (he sure wasn’t getting work done, going back through the videos trying to find the one person with apparently color-changing eyes) and reminding him about how funny it would be to explain this to her. 

“Tara, I can’t explain why but we  _ have _ to hire this guy,” Allegra gave it her best Pat Gill impression, looking over his shoulder as he looked over the same video cover letter he’d watched a few times in a row. A young guy in a suit, with a crazy amount of editing and a song and a strangely emotional ending, showed all of his energy and expertise. He was so genuine, all of his passion for video games and Polygon and video editing (and music, Pat assumed.) Brian David Gilbert, he’d said at the beginning, before he’d twisted the concept of a video cover letter on its head. “He just seems  _ right _ ,” the impression didn’t drop, but a smile broke through her false tone of romantic dreaminess.

Pat rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. In all honesty, he was considering saying something like that; if he didn’t have any dignity left, he might’ve done it. The amount of bright colors in Brian’s video was a constant reminder that this was his reality and he was getting fairly certain it was  _ because _ of Brian, too. 

“His eyes are hazel,” Pat spoke only when Allegra was about to go back to her own desk, her impatience in waiting for his verbal response to her mocking winning over her persistence. “They change colors, see?” He clicked through different parts of the video. “Brown, green, yellow.” His eyes finally tore away from the screen and turned to Allegra beside his chair. “Like my colors.”

“I can’t believe your soulmate is literally a baby,” Allegra chided.  _ He does look young, doesn’t he? _ Pat felt his face heat up.  _ Shit, I’d look so old next to him. I  _ already _ look old, I’d look like a fucking pervert with him. _ “Pat. I’m messing with you,” she nudged his shoulder, smiling to ground him. “He’s cute! The universe set you up, huh?”

“You’re so loud,” Pat half-joked, hoping others in the office weren’t hearing.  _ If Simone heard about this, she’d never shut up about it _ , he knew. It was perfectly fine if it stayed between him and Allegra, and maybe Tara, because he did really want this one to get hired now. (It’d be weird if he didn’t and Pat had to seek him out. How would he even go about that?) “Would you come talk to Tara with me?”

“Are you really gonna go ask her to hire him just because he’s your soulmate? I never took you for such a romantic,” she teased. “HR is gonna kill you if you don’t disclose that.”

“I’m serious! What am I even gonna say about this?” Pat looked at his computer screen, the frozen frame of his soulmate daunting. “Oh, Tara, we’ve just  _ got _ to hire this one! He made a song with good editing and comedy and he’s my soulmate and it’s got an emotional ending!” He looked back to Allegra, shoulders drooping exhaustedly. She stifled a laugh.

“I’m not going into her office with you, but you definitely need to get him hired. I’m not standing idly by as my best friend lets his soulmate slip through his fingers.” Legs said pointedly, and Pat had to sigh in resignation. “You know I’m right about this, Pat.” He nodded, looking at the glass screen of his desktop.

It was only a few minutes later that Pat found himself in Tara’s office, sitting in the (uncomfortable, he noted) chair opposite her seat at her desk. Her office was always fairly neat, or at least it was when compared to his own desk, and it was usually a welcoming, open environment. However, his own worries were keeping him on the edge of his seat, and he’d never felt more anxious in the room.

“I haven’t quite gotten through all of the videos yet, but there’s one that really, uh, stood out to me. Brian David Gilbert, that was his name. He did a song, with some, um, really good editing in it, and I think he’d be a great addition to our team,” Pat began, trying to keep his composure and not say  _ also he’s my soulmate _ . “He seems very interesting and, hm, passionate. That’s the word. I think he’d be wonderful to work with,” he let himself trail off, suddenly very aware of how much he’d said at once.

“He was already one of our top choices, but your enthusiasm is appreciated,” Tara chuckled a little. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited about something in a while. Never about a person.” Pat felt his cheeks heat up and cursed himself. “Got something you wanna tell me? Or HR?” The second was asked with a more teasing tone; Pat was shaking his head ‘no’ before she’d even finished asking it. 

“No, I’m good! Just thought Brian did a really good job with his thing, even if it was a little weird, it was really unique and entertaining.” He spoke again, cutting himself off from rambling nervously. He desperately wanted to say  _ charming _ , but that definitely wasn’t professional. But it was charming, the way Brian had used his love of Polygon as a hook and the way some of Pat’s thumbnails were in there and  _ oh fuck- does he know? _

Pat’s head spun as he tried to wrap around the idea that this man had been watching his videos in full color, knowing they were soulmates, and he felt dizzy. How long had his soulmate known they were literally made to be together? How long had he been thinking about Pat the way Pat was now thinking about him? His face flushed bright red and his fingers grasped the arms of the chair he was sitting in. Tara tilted her head and squinted at him. 

“You sure you’re okay, Pat? You seem out of it.”

Pat had never been less sure of anything in his life.


	2. that colorful mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pat is convinced he's going to leave this mortal plane. Brian has his first day.

He had almost passed out when Tara said they’d hired Brian. He had almost  _ died on the spot _ when Allegra nominated him as the one to show Brian around the offices; he didn’t even hear what she’d said, only Tara thanking him for volunteering in a half-sarcastic tone. He just barely caught the wink Legs shot him over her shoulder as they all filed out of the meeting room.

Brian showed up the following Monday, all sparkling eyes and boundless energy, with the enthusiasm Pat wished he could muster up every day. Allegra had texted Pat early that morning (“go get ur man, pat!!!!!!”) and grinned wildly at him from across the room when the elevator opened to show Brian standing in the middle of it. He was frozen with awe for a moment (Pat took note of it, and he honestly wondered if Brian had been standing there for as long as he thought, because it felt like an eternity.) 

It had only been a few days since Patrick had started to see the world in different hues, replacing the monochrome life he’d lived until Brian appeared on his screen. He was glad he could them now, though, with Brian’s outfit shining in multi-colored glory. His Converse alone required anyone seeing him to be capable of viewing them in full color, if someone really wanted to understand his style; they were bright orange, with blue laces. It matched his top, a raglan-type of shirt with blue sleeves and an orange torso. Entirely new experiences, they were; a week earlier Pat wouldn’t have been able to take it in nearly as well. How the  _ hell _ could he pull off matching something with bright orange Converse? Pat was suddenly very aware of the fact that he pretty exclusive wore black and white, with the occasional red shirt, and how his soulmate was more thorough with it. Hell, on that day he’d thrown on his red flannel and black jeans without much thought at all.

Patrick looked at himself in the reflection of his desktop screen, taking a moment to straighten his outfit out now that he was so conscious of it. He ran a hand through his hair, annoyed at how greasy it felt when he did.  _ Time to embarrass yourself in front of your soulmate. _

Tara got to Brian before Pat did; she immediately introduced herself, gesturing around the office and surely giving him a warm welcome.  _ Why doesn’t  _ she _ show him around? _ Pat found himself wondering, stomach filling with anxiety. He put his hands in his pockets to stop them from fidgeting.

“Pat! C’mere!” Tara beckoned him from across the office, and he felt the blood creeping up his face (his ears felt hot, and he had a feeling they were red.) As he approached the two, Tara introduced him: “This is Pat Gill, one of our video producers, he’s gonna show you around.”

“Hey Pat. I’m Brian,” the kid smiled, and Pat nearly melted. It was a bright smile, if he’d ever seen one. “It’s nice to meet you.” His cheeks were a little pink, but Pat couldn’t discern if it was blush or naturally rosy cheeks.

“Nice to meet you too,” Pat prayed his hand wasn’t shaking as he held it out to shake Brian’s. “I’m excited to work with you.” He gave his best not-nervous smile as Brian shook his hand, and the two of them lingered just a moment too long on it. Tara was gone now, off to her next task, but Pat wasn’t sure exactly when she’d disappeared. 

Patrick did his best to keep his mind clear during the tour. He walked around the office, making small talk as best he could (which wasn’t very well,) and letting Brian lag behind a few steps. Brian was looking around with wide eyes at everything, looking excited and fidgeting his hands and introducing himself to everyone around. When they came across Allegra and she kept dropping hints - far too many than Pat was comfortable with - that made his cheeks light up pink, he tried to move on quickly. Brian insisted on continuing the conversation and Pat couldn’t help wondering if he had figured out that Allegra  _ knew. _ Simone was loud and touchy with him, but somehow not as blunt about her teasing as Allegra had been (Simone knew because she’d figured it out as soon as her and Pat were alone. “I can read you like a book, Patrick Gill,” she’d said, winking at him.) Clayton and Jeff were welcoming and warm, just as Pat expected; the two of them didn’t know, of course, but they were always nice anyway. It was all like that. Nice, warm, just how he wanted everyone to be when they met the new guy, when they met his soulmate. It still felt weird, acting like everything was normal and nothing was going on- not that anything  _ was _ going on, really- but the two of them both  _ knew _ , Pat assumed. (He didn’t dare to assume otherwise and let his mind spiral down the hole it tittered on the edge of throughout the entire morning.)

Against his better judgement, Pat offered to eat lunch with Brian. He explained it to himself, and to Brian, as not wanting him to be alone on his first day. The cafeteria at the office wasn’t ideal, but Pat never brought his own lunch, and he didn’t want to drag Brian out to a meal on his first day. It warmed his heart a little (a lot) when Brian pulled a full-on lunch box from his satchel, like he was a little kid, and solidified this comparison by pulling out a sticky note from it. Pat only caught a glance of it, a little note that definitely had the word “sweetie” written on it. The thought passed for a moment that he might still live with his  _ mother _ , which terrifies him, but Brian laughed a little, as if able to read his mind.

“My- uh- my sister.” Pink creeps up his cheeks, and Pat is  _ certain _ that it’s blush this time, “she loves to embarrass me like this.” Brian scratched the back of his neck, anxiety radiating from his nervous smile. “I think it’s an older sibling thing.” Pat let himself laugh a little, if only to ease Brian’s anxieties (and some of his own, if he was honest.) 

“It’s fine, Brian. It’s kinda cute,” Pat said off-handedly, like it was nothing, as if he hadn’t considered using the word cute for the entire morning, as if even now he wasn’t sure it was right. He averted his eyes, looking at the crappy cafeteria pizza that made him feel like he was in high school again.  _ Good first impression, Patrick.  _ It crossed his mind that maybe he should present himself better, ingest something that doesn’t taste like cardboard with tomato on it. 

“I’ll let her know,” Brian said back, unwrapping his sandwich from the foil it was in. “She’ll be happy to know someone other than me enjoys them.” The end of a line of conversation brought silence again; the two of them munched their respective meals quietly.

“Y’know, I really liked your, uh, your video,” Pat spoke after a solid five minutes of awkward eating, looking up from his pizza instead of picking at the hard cheese. “It was my favorite one I watched.” 

Pat watched as Brian pushed his chair back from the table, nearly standing before composing himself and tucking the chair back under himself, carding his hands through his hair. His face was getting redder by the second, and the look in his eye could only be described as feral. Pat panicked, worried he’d said the wrong thing, and watched as Clayton side-eyed them. (They shared silent looks that said it all:  _ “Is he okay?” “It’s chill.” “I’m gonna go.” _ ) Clayton stood with his plate and left the cafeteria, leaving the two alone. Brian was sitting with his head in his hands, leaning against the table with his elbows, fingers in his hair. Pat could barely see his eyes, but they were wide. (And hazel, but he couldn’t see that, he just knew.)

“Brian? Are you alright?” The question- or rather, the lack of answer- hung in the air like the blade of a guillotine, threatening to come down and fuck everything up in a matter of milliseconds. It still took a minute or two after he asked for Brian to even look like he was ready to respond. 

“Uh- Uh, thank you.” Pat stifled a nervous laugh. It would’ve been a  _ very _ nervous laugh, he noted. Brian’s face flushed. “No really! Thank you!” Pat furrowed his brow, confused. “I’m really glad you liked it- I just didn’t realize you had seen it. Kinda caught me by surprise, I guess.”

_ Oh fuck. You let him go this whole morning thinking you weren’t his soulmate. You fucking convinced him you  _ couldn’t see color, _ you dumb bastard. _

“So, uh, how do you like the orange?” Brian’s leg shot out from under the table, up high so Pat could see his bright Converse. 

Patrick’s head was still moving a mile a minute now, thinking about how he’d let Brian astray but also now about  _ how the hell could he lift his leg like that? My leg would break if I tried to move like that, that quick.  _

“They’re… uh… bright.” His mind blanked. “They match your shirt?” It came out as more of a question than a statement, and Pat cursed himself internally. He nodded subconsciously, as if saying ‘yes that is exactly what I meant to say, good job me.’

Pat watched Brian for a moment after saying this. He could’ve sworn he could see the gears building speed in his head. 

“So,  _ soulmate _ ,” Brian said the word in a way that made Pat freeze. It seemed to be so  _ natural _ to him, said with so much intention and strength: “Thoughts on…” - Pat’s mind immediately raced with all the things Brian might be about to ask him, all the terrible responses he could give that might ruin the whole ordeal, all the- “Waluigi?”

Patrick sputtered; sounds of letters that didn’t form coherent words tripped messily from his mouth and spilled over the cafeteria table. It only stopped when he tensed up at Brian’s wink (he was entirely too good at that,  _ holy shit _ ) and his face turned a deep red. 

\---

When the clock struck five, Brian grabbed Pat’s wrist with reckless abandon. Pat had jumped at the touch, unexpected and sudden as everything else Brian had done all day. As Pat looked at his face for an explanation, he identified a mischievous glint in his eye and was overcome with anxiety. 

“What’re you doing?” Pat asked. It was futile; Brian was asking Legs for a Sharpie and she was obliging, the same mischievous look playing on her face as she winked at Patrick. “I- uh-”

“I’m giving you my number,” Brian spoke quickly, uncapping the Sharpie with his teeth. The ink on Pat’s wrist felt strange, the tip of the marker rough. The thought passed his mind that it was going to take at least a week to come off, and it was certainly going to stand out against his pale skin.  _ Shit. _ He couldn’t even see what Brian was writing, blocked by his hand. Hell, he could’ve been writing anything. In Sharpie. On his wrist, which was almost  _ never _ covered.  _ Pat, now you went and fucked. _

When Brian pulled away, it  _ was  _ just a cell phone number. Thank God. It was written in big numbers on his wrist, in purple permanent marker. Pat felt his face heat up and swore internally.  _ I have  _ got  _ to stop blushing so much. I look stupid. _ He looked up from his wrist to Brian’s face, a smug smile plastered on it.

“We- uh- We have Slack for messaging,” Pat stumbled over his own words and almost groaned aloud in annoyance.

  
“Oh, this isn’t for work. It’s personal,” Brian smirked and winked at him before turning away dramatically. Pat watched helplessly as Brian strutted back to Allegra’s desk.  _ Fuck. _


End file.
